La Vie et Le Temps de La Victoire
by WenchElle
Summary: My chronicle of life after Voldemort, as seen through the eyes of the first of the next Weasley generation, Victoire. Will likely remain untouched.
1. Le Victor

**Disclaimer:I still don't own it.**

The small hospital room in St. Mungo's was cramped, and smelled of antiseptics and Skelegro, but Bill Weasley could not have cared less. In only a few moments he would be a father.

He sat behind his wife with his legs around her, murmuring encouragement and soft nonsense to ease her pain. But Fleur clenched his hands and screamed as another wave of agony swept over her. She moaned over and over again, wishing it would just all end, that it would be done…

It had been over 14 hours.

* * *

Outside in the waiting room, all Weasleys and Delacours gathered like a giant cluster of bees. Most were sleeping. Gabrielle, almost 13, was sprawled out across the laps of both her parents. Hermione was resting with her head nestled under the chin of Ron, who snored softly. George and Percy were out on each other's shoulders. But Arthur was sitting straight up, not looking at anything or anybody. He remembered many nights like this, waiting in St. Mungo's for an event that was likely to alter his life forever. It was scary and exciting. But this was the first time that Molly was peacefully sleeping next to him. Arthur thought back to the day Bill was born; he thought back to how he felt on that night. Bill was quite a man, old enough to take care of himself and others. But the paternal side of Mr. Weasley wondered how his firstborn child was suddenly about to have his own firstborn. Wasn't it only yesterday that Arthur had held him in his hands for the first time? How was it that he and Molly were about to become… 

It was just then that Harry awoke with a start. He was sweating, and breathing heavily. Arthur looked over.

"Nightmare?" he asked Harry casually.

"The usual," the younger replied. He passed a hand over his sweaty fringe, over the faded scar. It had not pained him, though the movement was now automatic after a nightmare like that. He looked at his watch. "What day is today?" he asked, suddenly alert.

"It's…" started Arthur, trailing off and straining to get a look at the calendar on the far wall. Then he stopped short.

"The anniversary. One year," Harry said resignedly. They both sat in silence for a long while. Then Arthur spoke.

"I'm going to be a grandfather."

* * *

"Just one more, Fleur," said the Healer encouragingly. 

"Ahh, mon Dieu!" she cried, pushing as hard as she could. A final shout from the woman, and the cries of newborn life rent the air. Bill began to cry as well, as another healer took the child, severed the umbilical cord with his wand, and began to clean off the child.

"You did it," Bill murmured into Fleur's hair, caressing her face and kissing away her tears.

"Congratulations, it's a girl," the Healer said, smiling and handing the baby to it's mother. Already she had fallen into a stupor. The baby cooed gently in her sleep, and Bill felt his heart melt away.

"I think my hands are too rough for her," Bill whispered, tracing her forehead with one finger. Fleur laughed. Then she cried, cradling the child close to her, while Bill gathered them both close.

Just then, the grandparents walked into the room. Molly collapsed into Arthur's arms at the sight of her granddaughter, weeping. He held her strong, but tears made tracks down his face too. M. and Mme. Delacour smiled wide, holding hands.

"_Maman! Papa! C'est une fille!"_ Fleur cried happily, holding out her daughter. M. Delacour took her with trembling hands, and brought her close to his body.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" asked the Healer, holding her quill above the parchment of the birth certificate. Bill's eyes widened. It was the only thing they had forgotten.

"We…oh, _ma fleur, _we didn't get around to that," said Bill uneasily. The Healer looked annoyed.

"Today is the anniversary," said Mr. Weasley, quietly. Everyone grew silent and stared at him.

"_Le victor!"_ Mme. Delacour murmured.

"_Non!"_ countered Fleur. "_La Victoire!"_

**A/n:**This is like, a teaser chapter. Hopefully the rest will be much longer!


	2. Birthday Suprises

The night was deep and dark. Little Victoire was curled up in sleep, and visions passed through her mind, one after the other. But there was one that stuck more prominently than the others. She was in a destroyed corridor, rubble everywhere. Flashing lights came at her from all around, and Victoire was scared. The frightened child searched desperately for her parents, but she could not find them. Ahh, there they were! '_Maman! Papa!_' she cried out in her head, but they seemed not to hear her. They were both holding each other and crying, standing in a huddle of more crying adults. She thought she recognized most of them. It took a while to see that they were standing around another man. He appeared to be dead, but then he sat up and stared straight at her. '_Victoire, I am your ancestor. You are the victory,' _he said.

And then she woke. Frightened, she sat straight up, and clutched the blankets around her. The memory of the dream soon faded when she remembered that today was her birthday, and she was now four.

* * *

May came early that year. The warm weather had been drifting lazily around Shell Cottage since mid-April. The spray of the sea was still bitingly cold, but the sun shone down on the white sandy shores and brightened up the world after the bleak winter. This was all very good for one Victoire Weasley. It meant her birthday would soon be here. 

It was nearly midnight, and Victoire lay awake listening to the sounds of the ocean lapping against the shore. She could hardly sleep, for the excitement was too great. In the morning it would be her birthday, and she would be seven. For most young magical children, this was a frightening age, because the rest of your life depended upon whether or not you approached this birthday having already shown signs of magic. This was no worry for the young daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley, as she had been having magical outbursts for almost two years now.

There were footsteps in the hallway, and Victoire heard the light click on. Just like a horror film, the door to Victoire's bedroom was notoriously creaky. Fleur smiled at her daughter as she entered the bedroom and tiptoed over to the bed. She sat down, smoothing her daughter's pillows.

"_Ma petite,_ why are you still awake?" she whispered. Fleur did not look angry, but merely amused.

"I cannot fall asleep, _maman_. I am too excited. Tomorrow is practically here!" squealed Victoire under her breath. She didn't want to wake her father, or her little sister, Dominique, in the next room.

"And what day is that?" Fleur teased.

"_Mais oui, c'est mon anniversaire!_" said Victoire exasperatedly, swatting her mother playfully. They both giggled.

The next day, at birthday tea, Victoire was given the finest present she would ever own. Bill and Fleur led her down to the paddock near Shell Cottage, and shrill whinnies rent the air as Victoire first clapped eyes on her horse. He was a strapping Aethonan gelding, tall, and wings wide as a Hippogriff's. With his gleaming chestnut coat, Victoire dutifully dubbed him, what else, Rouge.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Victoire," chorused her family as the girl blew out the nine candles on the tremendous birthday cake her Gran had made for her. She smiled, happy that all her family was here at her house to celebrate another year. There were her parents, and her little sister, Dominique. Fleur held a squirming Louis in her arms. Her grandparents were there, as was her Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, with their small sons James and Al. Next to the Potters were Aunt Audrey and Uncle Percy, with her cousins Molly and Lucy, and Uncle George and Aunt Angelina and Cousin Fred. Finally, sitting happily together, were her Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, and Uncle Charlie. Unfortunately, the Delacours had been unable to make it from France this year. 

Beyond her family were two people. An elderly lady sat with one hand on the shoulder of a young boy, who was maybe eleven or twelve. His hair was shockingly purple. Victoire didn't know why, but she felt a little flutter in her stomach when she saw him, and when his piercing eyes came to rest on hers, she looked away hurriedly, blushing as red as her family's hair.

While everyone was tucking into the glorious cake made by Molly, Victoire wandered over to where her Uncle Harry was laughing and joking with Uncle Ron.

"My, my, just look at how big you're getting! Nine's a big year," said Harry happily, ruffling Victoire's pale hair. She smiled sweetly up at him.

"Nine _is _a big year. It's _the _year, if you're going to Beauxbatons," Ron mused. But Victoire scowled.

"What's the matter?" asked Ron, amused by her expression.

"Dad says he doesn't know if I should go to school this year. He says it's because Beauxbatons is so far away, but I think it's just because he isn't ready for me to leave home yet," Victoire replied. Harry placed one arm around her, and told her it was all for the best, and her old dad usually knew best. Victoire acceded, because she knew she was right and that her uncles would not quit trying to persuade her otherwise.

"Where's Teddy been for so long? I haven't seen him since Easter," mused Victoire, trying to sound casual.

"Well, he's been away at school all year, Hogwarts. Really likes it, I suppose. He came home for your birthday, mind," Harry told her, a smile playing around his lips, but concealing it as best he could from his niece.

Victoire would have never admitted it to anyone else, but in that moment she decided that if that's where people like Teddy went, she might have better luck fitting in at Hogwarts.

* * *

**A/N:**Okay, real story starting soon, I promise! Just wanted to set the stage some more. And I'm also devoid of good ideas today cause I just finished up finals, haha. 


	3. Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

**A/N:****Yeah yeah, if I owned Harry Potter I think life might be a whole lot more enjoyable. But for the record, these new characters that are being introduced in this chapter are, in fact mine. So yay for me!**

A shrill whistle came from the belly of the train as it huffed and puffed through the countryside. 15-year-old Victoire Weasley was sitting in a compartment, staring dreamily out of the window and wondering if she should send Louis a letter tomorrow so that he wouldn't forget to feed and pasture Rouge while Victoire was at school. She let her thoughts wander to the previous day, the last of the summer, when she had taken him out across the beaches near Shell Cottage. The sharp sea air whipped at her face as his hooves, running flat out against the sand, literally propelled them into the sky. Bill had told Victoire she wasn't allowed to fly Rouge when there wasn't anyone with her, but she had delighted in the flight.

"Patch, just let me see it!" cried a voice, which pulled Victoire out of her memories and into the present. The voice had come from a girl, Allie Williams, whose normally pretty face was screwed up in frustration, and her long, chestnut, curly hair was mussed all over the place. Allie was trying desperately to convince the tall, thin boy next to her to show her the object he was hastily trying to put away.

Victoire smiled wryly as she looked onto her friend's argument. She, Allie, and Patrick Gallagher had been the best of mates since first year, when they had been stuck together on the train ride to Hogwarts. Allie and Patrick were both in the compartment already, and they had comforted Victoire when she told them how nervous she was about attending Hogwarts as opposed to Beauxbatons. Later that evening, they'd all been sorted into Gryffindor. Patch and Allie fought often, small and stupid spats that usually required an intervention from the third part of their trio.

"Patcheen, what have you got?" Victoire asked calmly. He looked at her, a red tint creeping up the back of his neck and into his dark hair.

"You'll laugh," he muttered, trying to stuff the book back into his school bag. Victoire saw her chance. Whipping out the wand of cherry wood and unicorn hair, she pointed it at the offending corner.

"_Accio book!_" she cried, and the large volume sped out of Patch's bag, flew in a wide arc, and landed in Victoire's outstretched arms.

"Hey, give it back!" Patch whined, swiping at it. But Victoire was too quick for him.

"_Voila!_" she read with a flourish, "_Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches."_ Victoire and Allie succumbed to a fit of giggles, while Patch snatched the book back angrily.

"Oh come on, we're just having a bit of fun," Allie laughed, shaking Patch's shoulder as he put away the book. "Why would you even have that anyway?" she asked, her tone suddenly changing as if they were discussing a very serious issue.

Patch scowled. "Braeden gave it to me today before I got on the train. Said he expects me to 'keep the good family name' now he's not at school." Patch's brother, Braeden, used to be known around Hogwarts for how many girls he managed to take to the Room of Requirement before he graduated.

The girls both rolled their eyes. "Little Patcheen, what _are_ we going to do with you this year?" Allie giggled. "Next thing we know, it'll be YOU running up and back the seventh floor corridor."

She narrowly missed getting hit by a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. _

The rest of the journey passed with lots of giggles from Allie and Victoire as they poured over Braeden's book, reading the best parts aloud. It was the silliest thing they had ever read. Even Patch got in on the fun, and they all spent the next few hours trying not to die of laughter.

It was dark when the train finally arrived in Hogsmeade station. The three friends were barely off the scarlet steam engine, when a tall boy with spiky, turquoise hair ran up to them, breathing heavily from his jaunt. Victoire's high cheekbones turned scarlet.

"Hey, Teddy," chimed Patch brightly. The two of them shook hands. Then Teddy looked at the furiously blushing Victoire. Their eyes locked briefly before he spoke.

"The Weasleys are looking for you, Victoire. They want to sit together tonight because Roxanne is being Sorted," he said quickly, and cocked his head in the direction of a small huddle of students, all with Gryffindor badges and robes. They waved merrily at Victoire and her friends.

"Come with us," Victoire beckoned to her friends, and the four of them hurried up to meet with the rest of the family: Molly, Fred, Lucy, and Dominique. Eight Gryffindor piled into one of the thestral-drawn carriages, which, luckily, none of them could see. Victoire ended up being squashed on the end next to Teddy. The left side of her body burned where it touched his. Beside her, Teddy's hair turned fire engine red.

* * *

"Weasley, Roxanne!" Professor Longbottom called. A small girl with relaxed black hair and golden brown skin hurried up nervously to the three-legged stool. She perched herself cautiously on the edge, and the Deputy Headmaster slid the shabby hat over her eyes. There was a pause in which every Weasley in the hall held their breath.

"Gryffindor!" the hat finally shouted, just as they all knew it would. A cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table and the Weasleys in particular, as Roxanne jumped down from the stool with a smile on her face. They all slapped her back and shook her hand as she squeezed between her brother Fred and Allie.

"Going to be a great Gryffindor chaser, like your mum, eh?" Allie whispered as she hugged Roxanne. Her mother, Angelina, had been a chaser and captain of the Gryffindor team when she was at school.

The Sorting finished, and all the students of Hogwarts feasted on turkey, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, Shepard's pie, lamb stew, Yorkshire pudding, and the like. The house elves outdid themselves, just as they had done every year Victoire had been in Hogwarts.

Fed and watered, the students trudged wearily up to bed. Allie hurried off to lead new first years to the dormitories, one of her duties as a newly appointed Prefect. So Victoire went with her cousins, Patch, and Teddy up to the four-poster bed that was waiting for her in Gryffindor tower.

It was only after they were partially climbing the Grand Staircase that Victoire realized what was wrong.

"_Ah, zut alors!"_ Victoire cried, snapping her fingers. "I forgot my bag in the Great Hall!" she told her cousins. Patch offered to accompany her back down, but she declined and sprinted down the stairs so she could get there before the doors locked shut.

* * *

Panting heavily, Victoire clambered through the portrait hole, sighing with relief that she had gotten her satchel back. She was walking across the empty common room when she heard a voice emanating from one of the couches.

"Victoire, wait," said the steady voice of Teddy, rooting her to the spot. She spun around and looked to see him standing and striding towards her.

Her bag dropped to the floor as he took her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth.


	4. New World

**A/N:** I changed some details in Birthday Surprises, near the end of the chapter. At first, I wanted Teddy and Victoire's first meeting to be when she was old enough to feel lightheaded and fluttery, but I decided it probably didn't make any sense, so I changed it, and I think it's better this way.

As the pressure of Teddy's lips on her own overwhelmed her, a series of memories crashed over Victoire like a tidal wave. The pictures were vivid and bright, happy memories that she stored in her brain for times like these.

She remembered being three years old, and her and Teddy arguing with Fleur one Sunday lunch at the Weasley's because they were too old for naps.

There was the time she was six and Teddy had convinced her to stick her arm down a gnome hole, only to have one of the little creatures chomp down on her hand. The gnome left a sizeable scar that could still be seen to this day.

Once, when she was nine, they had both clambered onto a toy broomstick and were only a few feet in the air when James grabbing onto the tail knocked them off. All of them landed in a heap, with Teddy and Victoire standing up quickly and blushing.

Then, when she was 13, he had asked her to dance at Granddad and Gran's 50th wedding anniversary party. Teddy had whirled her around the floor like a mop, and tread on her toes quite a few times.

Of course, Victoire had had boyfriends before. Teddy had had a few girlfriends, in turn. But she had always harbored a soft spot for him; she knew that. Maybe because she had known him for so long, or because he was two years older, she never thought he would look at her the way she looked at him.

They finally broke apart. A smile appeared on his heart-shaped face as he took in the shocked expression on Victoire's.

"Are you really that surprised?" he asked her, chuckling quietly.

"Of course I am! What does this mean?" she asked, utterly bemused and quizzical.

"It means I've loved you for just about my whole life, only now you're old enough that your dad might consider letting me live," Teddy laughed, drawing her close and kissing her lightly. A few tears slid down Victoire's striking face, and he wiped them away with his fingers. They broke apart.

"_Oh, mon cheri, je t'aime. Je t'adore,"_ she breathed, their faces inches apart. He laughed quietly.

"I have no idea what you just said, but whatever it is, me too."

* * *

The next day, Victoire arrived at the Gryffindor table in high spirits. She cheerily bid Patch and Allie good morning, and sat down to slather marmalade over some toast. Both of her friends eyed her suspiciously. 

"I heard you come up to bed late last night. What was it, nearly midnight?" asked Allie, grabbing the knife and marmalade from her friend. Victoire scoffed and bit into her half-covered toast. She chewed quietly, pointedly ignoring the girl on the other side of the table. Allie let out a cry of exasperation, and snatched away the toast as well.

"Hey!" cried Victoire, grabbing the air where the toast had just been, while Allie held it tantalizingly a few feet away. "Give it here, I'm hungry!" she whined.

"Not until you tell me vhat I vant to know," she said, in a mock German accent. Allie leaned in close to her friend, a smile playing about her cheery face. " Were you, or were you not late coming to bed last night because you were in the common room _snogging Teddy Lupin?!?!?"_ Allie asked dramatically.

Unfortunately, she chose the wrong moment to pose this hinging question, as Molly, Fred, and Lucy had just sat down.

All was silent for a moment.

Then everyone started talking at once.

"You _snogged_ Teddy?!?!?!" Molly asked, incredulously.

"Caught on finally, have you?" Fred said, elbowing Victoire and waggling his eyebrows.

"Wow!" breathed Lucy.

Victoire turned Weasley scarlet and cast a glare that was so Fleur and so Mrs. Weasley that Allie actually cowered before her best friend.

"Had to go shouting all over the place, did you?" Victoire growled, most unlike her usual posh and collected self. "What if we weren't ready to blab to the whole family yet?"

Allie opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the post owls swooped overhead, and a huge tawny owl floated down in front of Patch.

"Ah, mail's here," he said lightly, the first words he had spoken all morning. He untied the copy of The Daily Prophet from the owl's leg, dropped a Galleon in the pouch on its leg, and shook open the paper as the tawny flew away. As he began to read, Victoire's angry eyes fell on the back page of the paper, the sport's section. Depicted in moving black and white was a magnificent Aethonan stallion, like Rouge, but taller and much better defined. The striking horse had a blanket of racing flowers draped over his withers, just in front of his wings. At his shoulder was a small wizard with goggles and a riding helmet, grinning and showing off an imposing silver cup. The article was headlined "Cresswell and 'Snitch' take Fletwock Cup."

"Can I see the back page, Patcheen?" Victoire asked, all anger forgotten. Patch, who was immersed in the paper, nodded absent-mindedly and passed it over the table to her. At once, Victoire submerged herself in the story over the continued titters from her cousins.

_George Cresswell, 23, is one of the youngest jockeys in the magical racing circuit to date. But it was he who raced Golden Snitch over the finish line at Maeve Park to win the Fletwock Cup this past Saturday. The Cup, named so for celebrated racer and breeder of flying horses, Laurentia Fletwock, 57, has been held for the past 15 years. It serves as the Quidditch World Cup for racing, and jockeys and mounts from all over the wizarding world attend for a 10-mile sprint around the track in Dublin. Although Snitch and Cresswell placed well in the preliminaries, they were going up against terrific odds and were not the favorite to win._

_"I was not surprised to cross first," says Cresswell, as he was interviewed in the winner's circle. "Snitch is a good steed and gave his all in the last few furlongs. I'm really proud of him."_

_As for next year, this reporter thinks it's safe to say that this is anyone's race_.

Victoire sat back on the bench after she finished reading. For the second time in less than 12 hours, she felt as though she had been whacked over the head with a broomstick.


End file.
